


Sage and Parsley

by Rairechu



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rairechu/pseuds/Rairechu
Summary: Wheatley taking care of a sick Chell~. Post Blue Sky.





	Sage and Parsley

He hasn't left her side, not once. He has been taking care of her to the best of his abilities, and yet it didn't seem like it was helping. It almost made him feel useless.

For days now, she's been making sounds that Wheatley has never heard before. Strange sounds coming from chest, her nose, and her mouth. Heck, the poor girl couldn't even speak her voice was so wrecked. He'd be lying if he wasn't afraid for her.

Not knowing much about humans was really hitting him hard since Chell became ill. He could do very little other than keep tissues around for her, put some vapor rub on her chest, and bring her water. He knew nothing about human viruses-- illnesses is what they called them; he only knew how to assist her with what she needed and when she needed it.

He sat on the bed, dressed in his cozy fluffy maroon pj pants and his white and blue striped tank top with his fluffy blonde hair messier than ever. He gently adjusted the cold washcloth on her forehead, smiling lightly as he noticed her sleeping face.

Such a gentle expression. No longer in pain or hardened by memories of what used to be in That Place. Nothing but peace and when she was in peace, so was he.

"Oh Chell... What can I do, huh?" He asked in a hushed whisper, stroking her hair from her face. "Just tell me, luv, what do I have to do to make this go away."

Met with silence obviously, he sighed and withdrew his hand from her flushed cheek. He was trying so hard to help her fight what ever virus was causing her so much agony, but he felt like he was failing her. Laying down in bed next to her, he rest his hands on his stomach and stared at the ceiling.

It was times like this where he regretted not being a core. At least he had access to information that would _help_ in some way. Aside from knowing jack all about human illness, he did know that they were able to feel better with proper medication.

As wonderful as Eaden was, pharmaceutics was a thing of the past-- literally. Good luck finding that in a bloody post-apocalyptic society. The lady with the mean eyebrows was too intimidating to ask for help, Romy was too busy with her children... All of the people Wheatley thought could help were moreso busy with their own lives... Not that he bothered asking anybody. He wanted to prove to Chell that he could care for her like a real companion. Even if it meant doing unknown things on his own! You gotta start somewhere, he thought.

Sitting up in bed and walking out of the bedroom silently, he thought long and hard. As far as any useful information went, the most he has access to was an old herb identification book they scavenged together, some cans of condensed soups, and fresh picked basil from their tiny garden in the back.

...

Wait! That's just what he needed!  
His stratospheric blue eyes were practically glowing as he thought of the perfect idea. He would take it upon himself to make a cure-all for Chell! It couldn't be that hard, its simple really! Identifying herbs, cooking some soup, and putting some basil in it! How hard could it be?

*******

Wheatley sat in the middle of the wheat field not too far from their little home. He watched as the stalks swayed carelessly in the gentle breeze, as if giving him some sort of pointers on what to do.

It's been an hour since he set out on his grand journey and he had found no other vegetable other than some wild onions. Those can be added to soups, right? Just run 'em under some water, chop 'em up, and toss the little buggers in.  
  
He sighed, looking up at the stars. He didn't mind the company of the bright little lights above his head that shined. Even the moon, as scary as she was, seemed to be much softer so far away from him.

He opened his little satchel he brought with him, looking at his bounty: all three wild onions, some wild sage, mint and parsley. Not much, but it was better than coming up empty. He was more worried at the fact that the book he had with him was... Quite old. Almost ancient to him. It made him nervous. What if all of the diagrams were out of date? Come to think of it, did he really need to taste every piece of hardly accurate grass he came across if he had a book to help? He digressed.

He closed it back up, getting to his feet and dusting his pjs from sparse dirt and stray leaves. Giving another look at the wheat field, he smiled to himself. He was confident that he would make the best soup Chell has ever had!

*******

He stared at the pot on the oven, biting his lip in anxious fear. How... How does this machine work? He's never used it before-- well, he was never allowed to use it because he wasn't ready, in Chell's words. He believed he was good, ready, and smart enough to simply use a large oversized heating elemental cube thank you very much!

"Um... Hello? I know you're probably asleep here, uh, oven, but do ya think you could just turn yourself on?" He asked the machine, awaiting an answer.

Silence.

"Alright, well if you're not going to be civil about this, I'll just have to manually hack you into working!"

Still dead air.

"H-here I go...!"

Wheatley took a step towards the machine, eyeing all the different buttons and thing-a-ma-jigs on the, er, control panel. A timer in the center and many dials. should be quite self-explanatory... Right?  
He gulped, fidgeting with his hands before shakily grabbing one of the dials and turning it until it made a distinct ***click!***

He jumped back, his hands protecting his head as he awaited some sort of disaster only to slowly open his eyes to nothing but a gentle silent hum of the heating element under the pot.  
Straightening up, he laughed under his breath. He felt so proud of himself! He knew how to work a stove top! And they say you can't teach an AI new tricks! Guess he wasn't a moron after all, right?   
Basking in his newly found sense of self-gratification, Wheatley walked over to the pot and saw the canned soup sitting there, not moving. It didn't make sense, it was heating up, ri--  
Oh.  
Stoves take a while to heat up. He forgot.

It seemed like now was the perfect time to chop the ingredients seeing as he would have to wait. He took the onions and cleaned the dirt off of them, running them under water before patting then dry with a paper towel. He then set them on the wooden cutting board and... Dreaded the next step: cutting them.   
He grabbed the knife from it's holder and did his best to align his cuts for decently sized pieces of onions. Being a wild vegetable, they were extremely tiny and only able to be sliced so much but it was something he was thankful for... The wild thing wasn't as helpful at not slicing your fingers open though.

Many chops and a few band aided fingers later, he was finally ready to add his slew of ingredients. He looked at the pot, seeing the soup boil. It smelled heavenly, even if it was from a can. He didn't want to just throw in his ingredients if the soup was still cold though.

Dipping his finger into the soup before recoiling in sheer agony and running it under cold water, Wheatley muttered under his breath. This was for the hacking to make you turn on, wasn't it?  
Once his poor finger felt less, well, scorched, he added his ingredients, stirring them in before letting them sit and simmer.

Might as well check on Chell and see how she's doing.

He slowly opened the bedroom door. noticing she was awake and in a coughing fit. Thinking fast, he retrieved her a glass of water and handed it to her before sitting in bed next to her.

"Better, love?" He asked, gingerly rubbing her back and awaiting some sort of answer.

Chell gave a weak nod, signing thank you to him.

"You're welcome, darling." He replied with half a smile.

Sign language was something Wheatley was still learning from her. He had learned the basics; Please, Thank You, You're Welcome, Good morning and Good night. That was really all he knew, the rest Chell had to pantomime to him and play some ridiculous games of charades just to get him to understand her. Luckily, she didn't lose her voice often.

"Ohho, just wait until you see what I'm cooking for you. You're gonna love it!"

She took another drink of her water, almost choking as she looked up at him.  
/What? What do you mean cooking?/ she signed.

Wheatley tried to understand what she was trying to say, but it flew past him.  
Chell gave him an expression that asked, "you're doing what??"

"Well, see, I was not sure how to help you since you've been so sick right, so I-- hold on you're gonna absolutely love this-- I took it upon myself to make you, my dear, something to put an end to this wretched illness!" He said enthusiastically and quite dramatically.

Chell's expression fell to one of curiosity and fear for what exactly he's done. His ideas were never the best and he... Didn't know the first thing about cooking. How was he being so confident?

***ding!***

"Oh blimey, that's the timer! It should be done by now, just sit there and don't go anywhere!" He said, more excited than he should be.

Chell sighed heavily. pinching the bridge of her nose. Dear lord what has this moron gotten himself into now? And why did /she/ have to be his guinea pig? She set her cup on the end table, waiting for Wheatley to come back. When he did, she could only stifle a little happy chuckle at him.

He came in, his hands protected from the scalding hot bowl with oven mitts that he (thankfully) didn't forget this time. Placing her bowl on her tray, he carefully set it in front of her. He gave her a bright smile, nervously blushing and fidgeting with his fingers.

"Uh... I made you some soup. The can said "chicken noodle". Don't quite know what a chicken noodle is-- lest they somehow managed to turn a whole bird into a noodle or somehow turned the poultry into a noodle-like shape."

Chell waited patiently, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. She loved the way he rambled on and on when he was nervous. Even if it did get on her nerves and made her want to duct tape his mouth shut, it was one of the little things that made him easier to understand.

"Oh right! Um, enjoy! If that's what humans say before they eat..."

Chell silently laughed, looking down at her soup. She took the spoon and stirred it around. it smelled really good actually, too good for canned soup. He must've put something in here. Hopefully it wasn't anything harsh. Apprehensively, she took a sip and smiled as she looked at Wheatley who seemed relieved.

"That's a good smile, right? Not one of those, 'oh you made this as a joke' smile, yeah? I'll be honest, I did put a lot of effort into that, and I uh, would appreciate it if you told me that--

He found himself silenced by Chell who shushed him as she ate more of her soup. Wheatley may not be good at... Well, anything, but he sure was good at altering boring canned soup and making something that tasted more homey!

He was surprised at how quickly she had eaten it, she was even drinking the rest of the broth. That had to mean it was good, right?   
She set her tray down on the floor, smiling at him in amazement and patting his side of the bed.

Wheatley did as she asked and lay down, met with her kissing his cheek and cuddling into his chest.  
He smiled, his face flushed red as he held her closely.

"Thank you, Wheatley."


End file.
